At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. “Not to-night,” she said. " "At least state your charge. They are not bad girls, but the average tourist has that misconception of them. She cried as he watched, frozen to the ground. I know you. He was so depressed and disheartened that he did not then believe he would ever write again. Yet you catch her eye—you can’t seem to escape from it. Gently she raised his head and withdrew the coat from under the pillow. She put her clothes back on, 118 lipstick smeared all over her face.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTcuMTU3LjE4MiAtIDI2LTA2LTIwMjQgMTg6MTY6NDMgLSAxMzE0MDMwMDk3
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